Demonic Soul
by fiftyshadesofsupernatural
Summary: This guy, whoever was standing in front of him, was not Dean. Not anymore. It looked like him but there was nothing left of his brother in the cold dark eyes that stared down at him.


Sam tugged a hand through his hair as he crossed the secluded parking lot, somewhere in the middle of Nebraska, heading towards the motel room that his brother was currently staying in. Since Dean had bailed three weeks earlier, Sam had spent almost every waking moment working to track him down and find him again. Since he had been killed by Metatron he just hadn't been himself, and Sam was at a loss as to what to do about it. Honestly, his brother scared the hell out of him.

The two of them had barely said more than a word to each other before Dean had walked out of the bunker, but Sam couldn't shake the image of his brother's face from his mind. There had been a cold, dead look in his eyes, a darkness that he could never have even dreamed to associate with his older sibling before. But Sam knew, he had to find him. He had to help him. He had to get back the brother he had once known, before Dean went too far and it was too late. He could only think of what he was doing, he had been bad enough with just the mark of Cain on his arm, now, according to Crowley, Dean had become a demon. That wasn't something that Sam thought he could stand to witness.

Sam was pulled from his heavy thought by the sound of a muffled scream coming from the room that all research promised to be Dean's. His stomach physically dropped at the blood chilling sound, he honestly just didn't want to know. There wasn't usually a good situation that came with a sound like that, but Sam knew that he had to go into that room and find out what was going on.

He pulled his gun from the back of his jeans and gripped the handle tightly, taking a deep breath as he turned towards the door. He wasted no time in crashing into the room, not bothering to knock or give even a second of warning that he was there. Something which, in the back of his mind, he wished he had. The sight before him made him feel sick.

There was a young blonde girl tied up to one of the wooden motel chairs, her wrists and ankles bound by tight ropes. Dean stood in front of her, holding the first blade in his left hand, glaring down at her. There was a selection of bloody knives on the table behind him, as well as a bottle of whiskey and an empty glass.

The girl looked up at Sam as he entered, looking as though she could cry in relief at the sight of another person. There were tears streaming down her bloody face, cuts and bruises covering her entire body, and a gag in her mouth. She couldn't have been more than twenty. He looked around to see the body of a man, looking to be around a similar age to her, lying on the floor behind him in a pool of his own blood.

Dean looked up at him from what he was doing, a dark smirk on his face. "Heya, Sammy." he said lightly, almost too casual for the situation around them. His eyes were blacker than Sam had remembered, as though they were getting darker and darker with every evil thing that Dean did. They appeared malicious than any demon Sam had ever come into contact with before. "Didn't expect you to find me so soon." he added lightly.

The girl in the chair turned to Sam and made an attempt to say something, but her words were stifled by the gag in her mouth. Dean simply turned to her and slapped her hard around the face with the back of his hand, more in an attempt to shut her up than anything else.

"Dean?" Sam tried his best not to freak out, with every instinct telling him to turn and run, that he wouldn't like the explanation he was about to get. "What the hell is going on here?"

"Oh, you know, I was just hanging out with," He paused and turned to face the girl. "What was your name again? Tammy, right?" He asked, gesturing at the girl in the chair. "And that's her boyfriend over there," He motioned the knife in the direction of the guy lying on the floor. "Rick, wasn't it?" he asked the girl, who only cried harder in response.

"What the hell is wrong with you, Dean?" he whispered, looking at him with wide eyes.

Sam thought carefully about what was going on. There was no way that it could be Dean. It had to be a demon, there was a demon in there somewhere, there had to be. Crowley lied, that's what he did. That's what all demons did. All Sam had to do was exorcise it.

Dean simply laughed to himself, as though Sam's question had genuinely amused him. "Deep down you know, Sammy, you know what's wrong with me." he smirked. "And you know that you can't stop it."

Sam clenched his jaw tightly, biting back his anger. "Get the hell out of my brother, right now." he almost growled the words, seething.

"Well," Dean took a step forwards, his smirk only growing wider, more malevolent. "I hate to be the one to break this to ya, kid, but this isn't possession. This is me." He shrugged, holding out his arms. "This is what I am."

Sam shook his head, he couldn't accept it, there was no way that was his brother. There was no way that the cold black eyes staring back at him belonged to the guy who had practically raised him, the one who had gone to hell for him and saved his life more times than he could count. "Dean, this isn't you. You wouldn't.. I mean you can't.." Sam trailed off. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Please."

Dean just shrugged. "Sorry, Sam." he smirked, turning faster than Sam could even react to before he shoved the knife straight through the woman's chest. She screamed through her gag, a horrible, haunting sound, before he ripped it out again and she went still.

"Dean," Sam shook his head slowly. "What.." he trailed off, he didn't even know what he wanted to say. There weren't words. The cold, murderous look in Dean's eyes terrified him more than anything ever had before. "You need to stop. Dean, you need help.

Dean scoffed. "Help, Sam? Really?" he shook his head slowly.

"Yes, help." Sam pushed out through gritted teeth. "There's something seriously broken in you, in your head. You've completely lost your mind."

"And I suppose you're going to stop me, right Sam?" Dean smirked, a knowing look on his face. He seemed genuinely amused by the whole situation.

"You think this is funny?" Sam asked, feeling as though he was on the verge of tears.

Dean simply shrugged. "Little bit I suppose." he mused.

"My god," he shook his head slowly. "You really are insane, Dean. You've completely cracked."

"Kill me then." he answered simply.

Sam's eyes went wide. "What?" he whispered.

Dean stepped closer to his brother, squaring up to him. "You heard," he said darkly. "Kill me."

Sam opened his mouth and closed it again. He couldn't answer him. Hell, he didn't even want to look at him right now. He could help Dean. He could take him to Bobby's and lock him down. He couldn't shoot him. Could he? This guy, whoever was standing in front of him, was not Dean. Not anymore. It looked like him but there was nothing left of his brother in the cold dark eyes that stared down at him.

He watched cautiously as Dean took a bloody knife from the table behind him and placed it into Sam's right hand. "Do it, Sammy, end it." he coaxed. "Can you play Cain and kill your brother?"

Sam looked at him before turning his attention to the knife and then back to Dean. His brother stared back, his eyes nefarious and filled with turpitude. His stare was menacing, daring him to pull the trigger.

Dean let out a loud laugh when Sam did nothing. ''You honestly cant do it can you?'' He shook his head and picked up his bag, headed for the door. ''I'll see you around Sam.'' He said as he began laughing again and slammed the door.


End file.
